


Hot Rocks: The Rise of the Last Willy Awakens

by 221b_hound, a_secret_scribbler, AtlinMerrick, Winklepicker



Series: Hot Rocks [2]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Bad Poetry, Chapters stand alone pretty much, Crack, Crack times crack with some feels but mostly crack with a side of crack, Emo, F/M, Fluff and Crack, M/M, Multi, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-02-07 04:27:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21452002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/221b_hound/pseuds/221b_hound, https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_secret_scribbler/pseuds/a_secret_scribbler, https://archiveofourown.org/users/AtlinMerrick/pseuds/AtlinMerrick, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winklepicker/pseuds/Winklepicker
Summary: This madness makes the most sense if you'vealready read Hot Rockspart one.Or don't and just know that this includes a lot of bad poetry and the crackiest crack that ever cracked. Also there aremany cracks in this story.(You know what sort we mean.)Jump in, the fluids are fine!
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Armitage Hux/Kylo Ren, Clan Techie/Matt the Radar Technician, Dopheld Mitaka/Phasma, Kylux, Techienician - Relationship
Series: Hot Rocks [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1546438
Comments: 126
Kudos: 41





	1. The Beginning Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This madness makes the most sense if you've [already read Hot Rocks](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10941129/chapters/24345084) part one.
> 
> Or don't and just know that this includes a lot of bad poetry and the crackiest crack that ever cracked. Also there are _many cracks in this story._ (You know what sort we mean.)
> 
> Jump in, the fluids are fine!

Now _this_ is more like it.

No worrying about every sentient’s food preferences. No dealing with Phasma’s bossy boots about the seating arrangements. And good lord, if I had to entertain one more prospect for ring-bearer batting their eyes at me, I’d have taken a blaster to my own kneecaps just to get a quiet nap in the medbay.

No. This is perfect. Just me and my Stygian stream of delight and screaming. He in his flowing cape of black iridescent feathers, and I in my peacock-silk gown.

“Let’s get out of here, my darling bud of flames. You and me, that’s all we need,” he’d said, plotting a course direct to Mustafar of all places.

So here we are—after a small private ceremony during which we exchanged our vows and I yelled at Kylo when I realised who had lived in this old Outer Rim fortress cum converted B&B—hand-in-hand, our matching rings catching on each other, uniting our love and our tax returns.

The sky is a red-black maw, the ground a terrifying rumble of fierce heat and shifting earth. In the darkness, the glowing pools of lava adorn Kylo’s shining hair with a galaxy of rubies. It’s so romantic I want to cry. In fact I am, but that is mostly the sulphurous fumes burning my mucosal linings.

“Admit it,” I tease as I swing our joined hands to and fro. “You only wanted to come here to commune with your grandfather—space wizard to space wizard ghost.”

“Maybe,” he says. He pulls me to a stop. The way his enormous paw swallows my delicate digits makes my insides dance the polka. He curls himself small and low, the delicious promise of attack sparkling in his eyes and his body. He leaps forward and snatches me around the thighs, flipping me like a sack over his shoulder. “But mostly because it reminds me of you, my volcanic viper. Of you and your fiery heart and of the heat of our love.”

“And of my hair?” I ask while I toy with the feathers on the back of his cape.

“Mostly of your hair, my candy corn kitten,” he says, rubbing my bottom.

And hot it most certainly is. Just like my dearest charcoal macaron who I assume can feel how excited my willy is getting pressed at his shoulder. In case he hasn’t noticed I wiggle myself against him which feels so delicious I take a good grip of his belt and wiggle even harder.

I think he has noticed because he flipped the back of my dress up and is now rubbing my bare bottom rather more vigorously. So vigorously that one of his enormous gloved fingers keeps slipping right into my bum hole. It’s still quite squelchy from when we popped into that airing cupboard for a quickie, so every time his finger slips a little ooze of his baby beans comes out. I can hear him slurping and moaning so I’m quite sure he is licking it all up like the good boy I’ve taught him to be.

That makes me so excited I wiggle against him even harder. And my willy is harder too. And I’m getting very very close to making a soggy mess on my sweetheart’s wedding dress.

A great roll of thunder peals over our heads and one by one, fat droplets of rain begin to fall, hissing on the hot stone and filling the air with a steaming fog.

“Shall we go back to our room, my divine conflagration?”

That rumbling voice rumbled right on up my nerve endings and made my willy spit a great sticky mess all down my honeyed void’s shoulder. If I’d been able to speak I would have replied, _let’s go back so you can poke me with more than your finger you scrumptious beast_, but I could only hiss in harmony with those hot rocks in the storm.


	2. Noobing Nerf Herder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No where in the galaxy is safe from a furious fire kitten. 
> 
> _No where._

"Kriffing god damn pfassking fuck!"

Matt stretched himself half-awake.

"Pissing puking bantha shit!"

He yawned and scratched his belly.

"You karking cocking scragging muckworm!"

Finally Matt opened his eyes, craned his neck, and saw Techie storming round their quarters, flinging pillows and socks and dirty underwear everywhere. To Matt's delight, his baby was absolutely naked, butt jiggling like a mist-pudding with each furious stomp, and perhaps he'd have fallen into a beatific, meditative state watching all that pretty wobbling and hair tossing, but when it looked like his skinny little Lleev worm was about to fling a holopad, Matt shouted, "Baby, what's wrong?"

Techie spun round, long hair catching in the corner of his mouth, plastering to his sweaty neck, big blue eyes click-clicking as he whispered, "Oh Mattie! did I wake you?"

About to shake his head in a lie, instead Matt was overtaken by another jaw-creaking yawn.

"Oh," Techie crooned low, coming close, reaching to tuck his dozy love in tight. "Everything's fine Mattie, it's all fine. You just go back to sleep and I'll be quiet as a mouse droid, k?"

Oooo, it was a close thing, that.

The morning nearly, almost, _just about_ became a sweet, lazy day of delightful naps and naked nuzzling, because both he and Techie had the entire week off. Originally meant to help with Kylo's and Hux's wedding preparations, the grooms suddenly buggering off in the middle of rehearsals to no one knew where had changed a few things.

First, Phasma went feral and seemed ready to hunt her superiors down and do damage with a broken pitcher of mojitos, but after Dopheld and the Saarai-kaar took her away to whisper her calm, everyone else took that as a cue to drink themselves stupid.

So, until other orders came through, Matt and his sweetie could do absolutely nothing much all day. After one little thing.

"Let me up baby," Matt whispered, "I'll get rid of some of last night's nectarwine and come back for a cuddle, okay?"

Techie stopped his broody tucking and fretting and mumbling, and took instead to thinking. After a moment he beamed besotted, suddenly eager to wiggle himself into their warm nest.

Then Matt kicked off the sheets and sat up.

Techie blink-blink-blinked at the naked expanse of his big boy, his expression went murderous again as he remembered why he was angry and, looking up, he once more started setting verbal fire to the room.

"Are you even listening to me you noobing nerf-herding, Force-using jerk? Where's the _key_ to Mattie's cock cage?"

Look, Matt drank a lot of nectarwine at the rehearsal so it was perfectly reasonable he forgot he was wearing a fancy-dancy Aradian cock cage complete with tinkly little jewels. What was not in any way at all reasonable was that Matt only now, just now, this absolute second, noticed his enraged little fire kitten had an erection visible from space.

In space.

"Oh! Oh! And another thing you kriffing kung-brained peedunky—"

Slow, very slow, careful slow Matt slid out of their bed. He tip-toed to the fresher while his sweetie continued shouting, shaking his fists and flower-stem arms at an empty room.

While Matt had no idea where Hux and Kylo had got too, he _did_ have every single certainty that even if they were at the other end of the galaxy Kylo Ren, right now, was covering his ears and looking for some place to hide. Maker help him when they got back to the _Finalizer._

Matt grinned. In the meantime, he was gonna go back in there, scoop up his furious little foxcat, and spend the rest of the day sucking nectar from his sweetie's, uh, his fire stick.

Oh yeah.

—  
_In response to things that are not as we might like them, we present this madness. Absolute pfassking madness. Hello and happy pending new year to all! P.S. The Saarai-kaar was meant to be the officiant at Hux's and Kylo's wedding._


	3. Jailhouse Cock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo and Hux become aware of an oopsie.

“And besides, I was a far better shot than that captain anyway. So in the end it was I who won the Nine Systems Cup.”  
Hux sipped his wine, sprawled on his side, naked but for a slip of silken sheet clinging for dear life to one plump butt cheek. His eyes half closed and a cream-contented smile on his tipsy-flushed face while he stroked his fingers lazy-soft up and down his thigh.

Kylo had heard precisely thirty-four and a quarter words out of Hux’s twelve-thousand six-hundred and fifty five word monologue. He’d tuned out a quarter of the way through honorificabilitudinitatibus. Not through boredom, he would have you know. Not _you_, obviously. Hux. He would have Hux know.

He was distracted. There was an incessant buzzing in his mind. And as he watched his darling’s fingers brushing the scant gold hairs of his thighs the wrong way, the tingling in his nipples and in his willy acted like Force antenna. The cacophony of screeches in his head resolved into words. Impolite words his father used to tell him not to say in front of his mother. Words his mother used to say and told him not to tell his father she’d said them. Bad words, furious words. Words directed right at him! 

A barrage. An onslaught. A bombardment. 

It was Techie. And Techie was not happy.

Kylo rubbed his temple, throbbing with each enraged salvo.

“My darling. My sweet. My bitter cherry fire-dumpling, you don’t happen to have some sort of key upon you?”

Hux yawned. His wandering fingers paused a moment to scratch his belly and give the Little General a soft squeeze. They’d all been rather busy on this delicious honeymoon and the Little General, though exhausted, still gave a valiant little twitch. “Key? What sort of key, prince of the darkest reaches of my lovely bottom?”

“Give me a minute.”

Kylo sat very still. He closed his eyes and reached out. Threw his mind toward the fire that was Techie’s ire.

He felt breathlessness—the air inside Matt’s lungs, straining to be still. A nervous shiver. He heard soothing words. The blink-and-it’s-gone vision of Techie wielding tin-snips near Matt’s baby makers. _Don’t move now, Mattie. I’m not. I don’t want to hurt you if you move. I’m_ not.

He felt a desperation. A hunger. Techie was beside himself for cock. And when Techie’s bottom was hungry there was only one thing that could sate it. And right now, that thing was trapped inside... oh no.

“My dearest flame-kitten, were you, by any chance, playing Jailhouse Cock with Matt before we left?”

Hux rolled over on the divan, somehow not spilling his wine. The sheet surrendered it’s position and fell with a graceful sigh to the floor. He sat up, sucked his lower lip between his teeth and crumpled his face with his best thinky face before his mouth twisted into a sheepish grimace. 

“Oops.”


	4. There Was a…

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo has a migraine. 
> 
> And there are Very Good Force Reasons™.

There was a ginger called Techie

He swore double damn and boy heckie!

He stomped and he fumed

He growled and he mewled

And he promised Hux was _so _going to get Vendorian itch mites in his favourite pink panties "because don't you doubt it you kriffing"—

*

There was a big boi they call Mattie

On his baby’s cock he went and sat he

Then he bounced and he moaned

He grunted and groaned

And distracted his baby from his big ol' mad-y

*

There was definitely a General called Ari

Who went on a honeymoon to Mustafar-y

He forgot to he had a key

To a cage on Mattie

And now he's giggling "Uh oh, oopsie!"

*

There was a—

Yeah, no. No. Look, Kylo Ren is _so _not in the mood for poeming right now, okay?

Usually he is, all right? He's all over that like rain on hot rocks, but currently Kylo's got whiplash, like total whiplash because first Techie was shouting so loud through the Force that even though Kylo had been having a really great daydream about getting fingered by his husband, to whom he is now _married, _Kylo had been so blindsided by swearing and stomping and shouting that he'd had to interrupt his killer kitten from his monologue and ask him about a key.

But right about the time of Hux's sheepish grin—POW! POWPOW!—there it was, a needle spike of pure Force panic, and why was Techie waving those tin snips at Matt's dick!

As if that hadn't been enough to give _any_ Force user a big migraine, the lust came back only squared, because in a brilliant bid to save the sanctity of his penis, Matt had started romping on _Techie's _penis and now Kylo's got a stiffy and Hux has noticed and just demanded that "Kylo Ren Hux report to Admiral Arse-in-the-Air, I repeat, report immediately to your superior officer's pink little orifice and—"

—just before Kylo mounted his delectable love rocket he squinched his eyes closed real hard, did a kind of twirly thing with his left hand, gave a teeny tiny nod and, somewhere many, many light years away, a gear, a latch, a pin, and a hinge gave way and Matt's penis sprung merrily from its prison.

*

There was a pretty boy they call Kylo Ren Hux

On his honeymoon he gives lots of fucks

He also gives licks in-between giving dicks

He gets it all back, in the honeymoon sack

And then his husband—

"Whoa, kriff, is this dildo made of genuine Mustafarian lava glass? Because that's, like, really rare and do you know it's Force sensitive and—"

—  
_These ‘poems’? Um. I’m sorry. You’re welcome._


	5. Cross-indexed or Just Cross

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Captain Phasma is cross that her brilliant wedding planning has been wasted.

Captain Phasma keeps lists, cross indexed in a database. The reason she's an exemplary leader in her role is that she knows how all the elements of one list affect all the elements of all the other lists in multiple contexts in various scenarios, compiled against a risk assessment chart that focuses on likelihood of a risk-causing event against the impact of said event.

These skills were the main reason Phasma was given the task of organising the wedding of That Kriffing Red-in-face-and-hair, please-stop-flashing-your-pink-knickers-to-your-paramour, the Admiral, and His Lumbering Oafness the Black Prince of Tantrums. Okay, so perhaps she was not assigned so much as took over said planning because the Panty King and His Oafness were too busy giving each other a seeing to and then writing poems about it to actually plan.

Phasma inhaled slowly. Exhaled more slowly.

And all right, she is mostly mad because she had just got the kriffing seating arrangements absolutely perfect, in groups of appropriate rank, eating habits, planetary customs, conviviality, likelihood of finding like-minded conversation partners, likelihood of stabbing each other in the tail, likelihood of creating new and interesting personal relationships, likelihood of two or more at each table going off to debauch each other in the cloak room, likelihood of defiling the freshers with poems...

Phasma inhaled more deeply. Exhaled slightly less slowly.

So, she'd just got everything _right_. Even down to deciding on the ring bearer (Her. It was going to be her. She'd worked bloody hard for this moment and she wanted to be there when the deal was officially sealed. She'd spent half a day polishing her armour around Mitaka's most recent fingerprint, his favour she wore while she enacted her duties, and it was meant to be so special...

She breathed. It wasn't slow.

And then those two _cowards_ up and disappeared with no more trace than a kriffing haiku scrawled on the Admiral's desk in lipstick.

_The chains of planning_  
_Break before they break the grooms_  
_Eloping Husbands_.

She cleaned it off before her Mitaka had to witness it and fell into one of his poem-comas.

She also decided not to tell the crew that their Commanding Idiots had simply snuck off to get married. It was a good drill to have everyone on alert and searching, seeking flaws in the security nets and trying to track the missing ship. A training drill gave her a great opportunity to let off steam by shouting, and kriffing hell she was shouting a lot.

Well, not as much as those two crew, the techie and the radio engineer, whose shouting transcended their soundproof door. Captain Phasma's lists included that pair in quite a few of her Disaster Mitigation scenarios, most of which were mitigated by letting them alone to do whatever the hell entered into their singular heads at any given time.

'Captain.'

Phasma's silver helmet tilted towards the beloved voice. Her Mitaka, crisp in his uniform and his demeanour. Organised and tidy. The only person who made her job easier instead of harder.

'We have tracked the command ship to its destination. It's on a lava planet,' announced her Lovely Lord of Order.

'Life forms?'

'Two. Probably. It's hard to tell. They're very... active.' Mitaka almost twitched. Probably he had images of Admiral Panty's pink frillies; and also His Oafness's flash of absolutely bare bottom. Subtle they were not.

'Thank you for your report, Lieutenant. Your work as been excellent. Are you free to report to my quarters in, say, ten minutes?' Her gloved hand strayed to the little patch on her armour, the dear smudge of a dearer fingerprint, not a marring of the perfection but the making it more perfect.

Mitaka almost-smiled. 'Yes, Captain.'

'Excellent. We will undertake a thorough debriefing.'

Mitaka saluted.

Behind her helmet, Phasma smiled.

She has another list, all about Mitaka. It's cross-indexed with the list about herself, about what she likes, and he likes, and they like together, and how long she can make it last until they reach a satisfactory mutual conclusion, and what they might try that they haven't yet tried, which may or may not include flashes of bottom and black silk frilly panties, and the Unauthorised Use of Foodstuffs and whether she might pop the question herself sometime.

After all, it's a masterpiece of a seating plan and it'd be a shame to let it go to waste.


	6. Totally Not It

“No response from the shuttle, Captain. No visuals on it either.”

Phasma pursed her lips though, beneath her helmet, it was for her benefit only. She glared down at the glowing surface of Mustafar as it glared right back.

The comms crackled to life behind her and she spun on her silver heel.

“Captain?”

“Sergeant, report.”

“We cannot locate the Supreme Leader or the General, Captain. There is however, what appears to be some kind of mass mating ritual occurring in the fortress. Eighty or so Mustafarians. Southerners as far as I can tell. I managed to catch the attention of one of them. She says they’ve gone, Captain, the two humans.”

To her credit, Phasma did not smash the console to pieces. But then she was not Kylo Ren—enormous pain in her butt and apparent leader of the First Order.

“When?” she snapped.

“Minutes, Captain. They must have slipped right beneath our noses.”

Phasma heard a small crack, so she stopped grinding her teeth and cursed the day she’d been born, the night she’d met Hux, the ‘fresher walls, and everyone’s damn leg, including her own.

“Those… absolute… bloody PAINS IN MY…”

Techie sprang up into a sleepy, pale, pretty L. He sniffed the air, blinked his eyes open just a sliver each, narrowed them to half a sliver, and then sniffed again. His nipples stiffened into delighted little nubbins.

“Mm,” he mmed, nodding approvingly. He lay back down, rolled on his side and slotted his very hard willy right between Mattie’s very warm soft cheeks, and dozed off again.

The officers on duty were all a-fluster as they watched the pip of the Supreme Leader’s command shuttle glide toward the main docking bay.

Someone was going to have to go down to meet them and everyone was very much ‘Not It’ except for poor little Staff Sergeant Julri who had no idea why everyone was suddenly yelling, ‘not it’, and holding their palms to their foreheads. She looked around the command deck, confused until the true horror dawned on her. 

“Oh. Oh no no no, not it!” she yelled, slapping her palm onto her own forehead, too late. 

There followed a volley from all directions explaining ‘Not It’, and several fingers pointing her toward the doors.

“I confess I expected more of a welcome than an empty hangar,” Hux grumbled around the leather between his teeth as he pulled his gloves off.

“Would you like to me to order one, my burning brand of brilliance?” Kylo wmmzhd his lightsaber on and peered around the docking bay.

“Put that away, for goodness’ sake. I don’t want a parade. I want a hot bath, with real water. Then I want four courses, including dessert. And then I would like for you to show me how to use that big purple and green thing with the seventeen moving parts again.”

“The Wowser T979?”

“That’s the one. I liked the way it made my bottom fizz, but in a warm way.” 

Kylo turned off his lightsaber and waggled his eyebrows at Hux. “I’m wearing it right now.”

Hux’s eyes widened into saucers. He stared down at Kylo’s crotch. “Impossible. You couldn’t hide it all.”

“I’ll let you search all my nooks and crannies later, if you like.”

Hux opened his mouth to reply. Instead a thread of drool fell out, and a voice called from across the bay.

“Supreme Leader. General. Welcome back.”

A tiny officer, no taller than Kylo’s knees ran-skipped toward them with a terrified look on her face. She slowed to a walk, tossed her hair, and plastered a casual-but-still-terrified smile on her face.

“Is there anything I can have prepared for you? We weren’t entirely sure of your return. Or your leaving, really.”

Hux threw his hands in the air. “I have 1321 days accumulated leave you know. I am allowed to take a holiday.”

Kylo did a double take. “I only have four,” he pouted.

“Yes, my love. But that’s because you keep taking time away to sulk in the Outer Rim every time the Supreme Suns lose their Zero Grav Football division match.”

Kylo folded his arms and continued his pout. “They won last week,” he murmured.

“I’d like a hot bath run. And I shall write down a menu, to be served as soon as possible in my quarters. I’m famished, and we have…” Hux licked his lips as he squinted at Kylo’s crotchal area, “…things to do.”

“At once, General.” Julri nodded and turned to go before turning back. “And may I be the first to congratulate you on your nuptials, sirs.” She gave them a glowing beam.

Kylo’s eyes flicked to Hux’s. They both cleared their throats.

“Ah, yes.”  
“Yeah, about that.”

Julri had a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach. If the pit could speak, it would be calling up through her oesophagus while desperately trying to keep its head above her gastric juices—you don’t want to hear this. Whatever is coming, you don’t want to be the first one to know. Get out. Get out while you can.

“We decided it wasn’t for us,” Hux said, before Julri could pretend she hadn’t been waiting for a reply and flee the scene.

“We ran away from everyone else’s idea of what the day ought to have been,” Kylo shrugged. “But then we found we didn’t like the whole thing itself.”

“I told you it was an antiquated and unnecessary ritual,” Hux raised his smug-face chin.

“You did not. You said you felt like a princess.”

“Well, I did. I can feel more than one thing at once you know!”

Kylo smirked. “I have more than one thing you can feel at once.”

Julri began to back away slowly while the Supreme Leader and the General were lost in each other’s eyes. She had learned her bitter lesson on the command deck, but now she was armed and ready. In fact, she had poemed, right there in her head.

_ When the General orders this and that  
And the Supreme Leader’s ‘saber is lit  
Click your heels and doff your hat  
And make sure next time you’re Not It._

She, first and foremost was very much Not It when it came to telling Captain Phasma she could call off her search now.


	7. A Hands-Free Enterprise

Communication is the keystone of any relationship, I always say. Thus, precisely fifteen minutes after the weekly strategy meeting, I ensure that my Sweet Molasses Battle Beast and I both have clear schedules for the next two hours for very important and very necessary debriefing. 

I debrief him. He debriefs me. And once our briefs have been tossed to the floor of our chambers we have our very own meeting of minds and bodies.

So it was I found myself rocking languidly atop my Gallant Galactic Steed, my eyes fluttering shut in delight when I heard it again. A staccato knocking sound that had been plaguing me the last few days. I stopped with a hand slapped to Kylo’s chest, stilling us both.

“There! Do you hear it now?”

To his credit, Kylo, instead of questioning, remained silent and listening. There it was again!

“That!” I said.

“I heard it.”

“What could it possibly be?”

“I don’t know. Pipes maybe?” He tilted his head back to peer at the wall behind him. I confess, I had a mighty urge to bite his neck ever so gently.

“I suppose it could be.” I remained unconvinced.

He shrugged, and then tried subtly to hump his hips up. “Let’s figure it out later, we’ve got important business to get to.”

“Yes, but… it’s just so annoying.” I could not keep the consternation from my voice.

“My Darling Lava-Spice, I’m very deep inside you right now and I’d really like to come all over your insides so I can hear you make my favourite sound. The pipes can wait.”

He was right: words I could not have predicted myself thinking or saying so many cycles ago. My Midnight-caped Space Bear had matured.

I resumed my rocking and he his humping, and very soon I felt him spurting away inside me and his seed squelching its way out with each frantic little jolt of my hips. I raised my eyes to the ceiling and made a sound of guttural pleasure. 

I was told that Phasma had once called for a ship-wide hunt for a herd of Hoth hogs after overhearing me and my Sweet Beast of Shadow in the throes of passion. It took several sessions with our wonderful counsellor, Pana, to overcome that blow to my vanity.

We were snuggling afterwards, my Constellated Wall of Inspiration draped upon me—he is my very favourite anxiety blanket. He was running his fingers through my chest hair—“I think there’s a fourth one growing, Conflagration Of My Heart”—when that infernal knock-groan sound emanated from the walls again.

“There it is again!” I began to flail, like a starfish trapped beneath a boulder.

Unbeknownst to the General or the Supreme Leader, four levels above in a disused ‘fresher that had been “undergoing repairs” for the last quarter, an intrepid new business was underway.

One fine night of giggles and gin, Matt and Techie had discovered an exciting new skill that they had since practiced to the most refined perfection. And it seemed to them they had stumbled across a fine opportunity to make a tidy profit as well.

If one were so inclined, one could pay a pretty credit or hundred for a private session with a technician highly accomplished in the art of hands-free orgasms. That is, as long as each and every client filled out the eleven page questionnaire and contract they had written up at least twenty-four hours before their appointment. 

Mattie had fitted out one of the cubicles with some plush material they’d found in the trash compactor, Techie had built an impressive fairy grotto-like atmosphere complete with twinkly lights, and they each took it in shifts to spread their legs for anyone that paid the fee.

This is where, after following the infernal noise and sniffing out a familiar scent, Hux found them. He slammed open the cubicle door, terrifying a gangly lieutenant into trip-crawling away with his trousers around his ankles.

It took several seconds for the image Hux’s eyes were receiving to be processed in his brain. In front of him sat the long naked expanse of Matt, legs akimbo and a long thin sticky strand leaking unbroken from the tip of his pretty cock to an impressively sized puddle on the floor.

“Oh,” Hux said.

Matt blinked five times quickly and breathed out an, “Oh.”

Hux swallowed, his eyes dipping down. “Ohh.”

Matt bit his lip, his untouched cock gave an energetic buck. “Ohhhhh,” he moaned.

Hux slapped his hand over his mouth and proceeded to slobber over his fingers. “Mmh,” he squeaked.

That seemed to be quite enough for Matt. He threw his head back, his fingers dug into his thighs, his cock gave another valiant twitch and jump before a veritable stream of come turned the puddle on the floor into a small pond. He continued to twitch with delicious spasms, his head and shoulders banging a staccato rhythm against the wall.

Hux stared at Matt’s still-throbbing cock, his mouth slack and eyes trying desperately to focus, when the knocking noises brought him out of his reverie. His eyes widened, and with his most authoritative pointy finger he pointed at Matt’s percussive twitching and yelled, “A-HA!” at the very same moment that Techie appeared behind him, tapped his shoulder and asked how he'd be paying.


End file.
